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		<title>Amanda McDonald | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/violentblonde</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Amanda McDonald</description>
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		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
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		<ttl>15</ttl>
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			<title>The car accident</title>
			<description>From the point of view of our main character, Clara&amp;nbsp;It's past midnight but I see him. I see clearly his sharp face, his eyes so cold blue but still beautiful like the sky on a sunny day. I see his cold hands holding tight the steering wheel. I know what's hiding behind his smile. He's tired.The..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/violentblonde/1849499/</link>
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			<title>Romance is dead</title>
			<description>A story about a boy who is in love with a girl</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/violentblonde/1846581/</link>
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			<title>Freedom</title>
			<description>People don't belong to no cityand there's no pity.People don't belong to no manthat's the great plan.&amp;nbsp;If someone put you through Helldo you think you would be well?No freedom is my idea of ithaving no choice in life is a myth.And if one tries to capture you in a cageyou have all rights to be fu..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/violentblonde/1845440/</link>
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			<title>The dead neighbour</title>
			<description>At that time she was only seventeen but she walked the streets so full of rage. She had a beautiful heart but she was unappreciated. She had a mother-father-sibling type of family, lived in a beautiful house in a quiet neighbourhood and had money. But what were all these when no one loved her? Her s..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/violentblonde/1844520/</link>
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			<title>The state of dreaming</title>
			<description></description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/violentblonde/1844516/</link>
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			<title>The woman on the bus</title>
			<description>Late Thursday evening. People going home after work or school. Cold air, dirty streets, straight animals, light mist. The empty bus station where your fingers and toes freeze although you have put on wool gloves and warm boots. Walking into the hot bus, feeling the smell of sweat in the crowded spac..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/violentblonde/1844297/</link>
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